- days in early spring, when there are no clouds in the sky or leaves on the trees, I can
see for miles and really breathe
- lucky pennies that remind me of my father
- my mother's laugh
- my pen pal, who would never know why I didn't write her back
- all the highway exits I've never taken and back roads I've yet to explore
- walks in the park, holding hands with a cute boy and not knowing or needing to know
whose hands are making the other's so sweaty
- forehead kisses
- oral sex
- purring cats
- strangers who tell me I'm pretty or share their weed with me at parties
- knowing that, if it takes a year or a day, I'll feel better eventually
see for miles and really breathe
- lucky pennies that remind me of my father
- my mother's laugh
- my pen pal, who would never know why I didn't write her back
- all the highway exits I've never taken and back roads I've yet to explore
- walks in the park, holding hands with a cute boy and not knowing or needing to know
whose hands are making the other's so sweaty
- forehead kisses
- oral sex
- purring cats
- strangers who tell me I'm pretty or share their weed with me at parties
- knowing that, if it takes a year or a day, I'll feel better eventually
✱✱✱
| Angel Cezanne is a queer feminist, essayist, and poet. She curates women’s and non-binary folks’ art and writing for @EleanorAZine and tweets a lot at @angelmannequin. |
